


Symptoms of Burning

by 54321boom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alone, Alternate Universe - High School, Anger, Angst, Character Death, Death, Deception, Drugs, Emo!Charlie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Manipulation, Parties, Runaway, Sassy!Castiel, Self Harm, Sex, Sibling!Charlie, Sneaking Out, Thoughts of Suicide, Weed, fire?!, lots of anger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1912815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/54321boom/pseuds/54321boom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchester family has fallen apart after the death of their mother, Mary. John is always working out of town, and the teens are constantly left to fend for themselves, high tension their only stability. Years later, as they all continue to struggle with coping with the fall out, their shells begin to crack and what comes pouring out are the dark, long hidden secrets of the Winchester family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symptoms of Burning

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first real fic. Yay! :D  
> None of them live in Lawrence Kansas, just a forested town somewhere. The where is honestly not important.
> 
> Dean=18, senior  
> Adam=17, junior  
> Sam= 16, sophomore  
> Charlie=15, freshman 
> 
> Tell me if you guys like it and if I should continue:) it'd be much appreciated!! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!!^_^

CHARLIE

 

Dark, broken walls surround me; thick black shackles bind my feet and hands to the ground. The world is a blur, almost no light to be seen; then suddenly, a figure appears. His features are hazed but the mask hiding his face is clear. His eyes stare into mine, crystal blue piercing through my green. Long fingers trace the outline of my body, but the figure's eyes never move. I kick and I fight, fear trembling through my very soul, but the iron is too strong for me; my efforts only leave me bruised and bloody. I'm petrified as the figure leans over me, his form hovering just above mine. I stare into his bright blue eyes, their familiarity a confusing concoction in my mind. I glimpse a shadow moving toward my side, but my state doesn't permit any movement. It comes into view and I see the figure's hand slowly creep toward me. His fingers wrap around my face and suddenly I'm met with searing, white hot pain. I think I've finally met my end, that I can't even speak when it will most likely save me, then suddenly..........I scream.

 

"GAH!"

I'm thrown awake, the pain of embers wracking through my body still present. Everything is messy, blurry, the confusion of my whereabouts being the only thought in my mind. I can feel the warm air cool against the sweat dripping down my forehead. My eyes begin to focus more and I recognize the faded maroon of the walls. 'This is my room'. The thought calms me tremendously and I immediately feel my pulse slow. My panic subsides and I take the time to just breathe. Deep breaths; in and out. I close my eyes for a moment and squeeze the sheets beneath me to ground myself. I breathe more, letting each huff slow to a steadier pace before I finally open my eyes again. 'I'm so done with this shit....but what're my options?' The choices sway in my mind, though none of them good enough to hold on to. I have no options. I'm alone.

I'm wary of the aching dizziness ringing between my ears as I lean my head to the side and look towards my alarm clock. My hand lets go of the blanket and swipes my copy of The Hobbit to the floor, so as to read the numbers. '5:45a.m. Fuck. Gotta get up.' A breath I didn't know I was holding escapes me as I roll my body into a sitting position on the side of my bed, the blankets dragging off of me as I move. Breathe in, breathe out. My legs tiredly push my body up into a standing position, then drag themselves across the floor until they meet the bathroom at the other end of the room. My feet protest the sharp cold of the tile, but the air is too warm to move. It's comforting and sickening at the same time. It reminds me of dreaming; of breathing.

I glance towards the large mirror to my left, grimacing at the red replacing the whites of my eyes. 'Shit, they're so bloodshot, they're gonna notice. Shit! Screw these fucking nightmares!' I angrily twist my body towards the shower behind me and turn the water on as cold as I can take it. I put my hand into the water, watching as it runs over my fingers, my knuckles...it's almost too calming, but a quick glance at my alarm clock reminds me of the duty at hand. I let it run over my hand for another second before I decide it's good enough and slowly push my way into the water. The cold almost instantaneously causes goose bumps to appear all over my body the moment it makes contact with my skin. The discomfort makes me wonder why I even do this to myself at all. I tell myself it's to 'keep the bright red dye in my hair from fading' or 'to wake me up', but I know the real reason I always make it so cold. 'Because what if it wasn't?' I shudder slightly harder before I begin with my normal shower routine, pushing the thought to the back of my mind.

As soon as I'm done I jump out and pat myself dry, letting the towel fall to the ground when I'm done. I walk towards the mirror once more and see dark circles where black eyeliner was the day before, soo I grab my makeup and apply enough foundation to cover any imperfections, and enough eyeliner to make the circles look meaningless; just more smudged black. Then I dry my hair and do my best to make it look presentable, it being the most enjoyable part of my morning routine as it's short length only takes minutes to do. 

I walk back into my room, quickly assessing what I want to wear, then put it all on half-heartedly. My body twists and twirls as I look over my fitted skinny jeans and baggy t-shirt. I give myself a quick nod of approval at the all black ensemble and grab my shoes and glasses on my way out of the comfort of my room, into the hallway. Silence wrings through the house, my socks quickly but quietly hitting the ground and making their way towards the stairs, as not to wake anyone up. My ears carefully listen for any noise being made as I walk past each door. The last thing I want is for Dean, or Adam, or Sam to wake up and I have to face them. Anxiety rises in me just thinking about it, quickly accompanied by guilt, but I just can't help it. They may be my family, but I can't forgive them, not yet. I'm just not ready. Not yet. Just not yet.

I keep making my way towards the stairs, when suddenly the thud of footsteps stops me in my tracks. The blood rushes from my face, and I cautiously turn myself to hear whose room they're coming from. Just as I turn, I see the terrifying sight of Dean's door swinging open. I'm frozen. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

DEAN

 

My eyes are still half lidded, my head still ringing with the music of the night before when I open my door to see two scared eyes staring back at me from across the hall. It takes me a second too long to realize it's my sister, but the twinge of guilt is crushed by the reality that I rarely, if ever, see her. The last time I can recall was a week ago when she accidentally left her bedroom door open while she did her homework; which is why I have no idea why she looks like I just smashed her prized Harry Potter figurines. I open my mouth to ask what I did, but she turns and jogs down the stairs before any words can come out.

I wrack through my brain one more time, looking for any reason as to why she would look at me like that, but the process is cut short by the slamming of a door against the wall next to me. My body jerks, eyes bolting towards the sound to see Adam making his way down the stairs, fully dressed and ready to go. The words, "Hurry up! We're gonna be late!" ring up from the stairs. I scoff and walk down the hall, knocking on Sam's door. "Sam! You up yet? We gotta leave in ten!" A quick shuffling, the distinct thud of flesh hitting floor, and quiet murmuring are the only warnings I get before pain overtakes my face. "Ah! Damnit Sammy!" I grab my nose and check to see if any blood is coming out. Once my dry palm reveals I'm fine I look down at the kid walking around me and towards the stairs. "Should've backed up", he laughs as he smirks back at me. I flip him off the moment he turns his head and walk down the stairs to meet with everyone else.

I make my way to the kitchen and quickly go for the cupboard. I grab a box of Frosted Flakes out, shuffling my way across the cabinets to grab a bowl, spoon, and milk. Sitting down at the table, I begin to eat. I look to the other end and see Charlie with her head down, moving around the toaster waffles on her plate. "You gonna eat those, or do they just look pretty?" I remark. She looks up and glares at me, pushing her food to my end of the table. "I'll be in the car," she mumbles before storming out of the house, the front door closing with an audible bang. I turn towards Adam, "Okay, am I missing something here?"  
"If you are then we are too. She's been acting that way towards all of us for the past couple months," he sighs, glaring down at his bowl of cereal. "Really?" I ask.  
"Yeah. Course, you haven't been around enough to even know that."  
"Hey. Not now," Sam snaps at him. A slight anger starts to rise in me, but a flood of shame masks it before I can act. I finish my bowl and grab my keys, Sam and Adam not far behind. We all get in the car, no one saying a word to one another as I start the engine and drive towards our school. 

I pull into the parking lot, dreading the moment I have to walk into class and pretend like I care about any of what my teachers are saying, but the distraction from my throbbing headache and constant pang of guilt are welcomed. I close my door, waiting until everyone is out and on their way before locking the car and following suit. I make my way through the almost empty halls, just about to turn the corner to head to my history class, when a small brunette with dark blue eyes yanks me behind the science building. I stumble slightly, his roughness catching me off guard, before I finally stand up straight. I quickly gather my thoughts; mentally preparing for what's to come as I look down at the person, to be met with an angry, glowering stare. "What happened to you last night?!" He pushes me back slightly, my shoulders hitting the wall behind me. "Hi to you too, Cas," I tease as I lean back forward. "Don't play that with me, Dean, what happened to you?! I was looking for you all night! You were supposed to stick with me!" He continues to glare. "Nothing, okay? I started to get a little too out of it and couldn't find you, so I had Ash take me home."  
Almost impossibly, he glares even harder, his look ready to kill. "I swear! even ask him," I gulp slightly, forcing the gathered saliva to push through my now tightened throat as I smile down at him. He grimaces at me for a couple seconds more, his jaw setting tightly on the sides, before the anger on his face drops completely. "Ugh, just...text next time, will ya? Don't freak me out like that. Makes me look like an idiot," he pushes my shoulder once more, but lightly this time. I chuckle, "Okay, okay, I promise. Now can I go?You've already made me late for class. Again." He laughs up at me, a smirk creeping it's way onto his face, "Dean Winchester caring if he's late? Someone notify The Church! Hell has frozen over!"  
"Ha ha, no. Teacher called my dad and told him how many 'tardies' I've had. So now, if he's 'interrupted at work to be warned of my possible suspension' again, he'll take away the impala."  
"Ooh, sorry," he replied, wincing at the end of my words.  
"Don't be. I'll just do what I do best and charm my way outta this one," I wink at him. I hold my smirk and wait for him to laugh back before I turn to leave, but am jerked back to facing toward him. Before my body can react, Castiel's lips are pressed against mine, soft and passionate. After a second he pulls away, his face blushing. I jump back slightly, "Cas! What if somebody saw that?!"  
"I know, I know! Just think of it as an apology for making you whore yourself out to Mrs. Bret. And penance for making me worry," he smirks up at me again. A blush begins to creep onto my face and I can't help but shake my head and laugh.  
"See you at lunch, Charming!" He shouts and waves as he jogs out towards the west building. I stand there for a second, looking down at the ground, wondering just what to do with him. Wondering what I'd do without him. The blush stays, but my smile turns into a carefully sculpted smirk of feigned nonchalance as I finally make my way around the corner to my class. 'If only he was a class. I'd come to him everyday.' The cheesy thought makes me chuckle, but the truth of it makes my smirk more true than my actions ever tend to be.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

SAM

 

"Yo, Sammy! Did you do the homework?" Someone yells at me from the back of the noisy classroom. As I walk through the space between the desks towards the door, to the back, I see Gabriel and Lucifer watching me expectantly. Their eyes are peeled on me, staring, and it takes me off guard for a second; the only thing I can muster from my vocal chords being a simple, "What?" Gabe rolls his eyes at me, "Do you have the homework, ditz?" He feigns irritation, but the smile pulling at the sides of his mouth give him away. I laugh down at him, setting down my backpack and taking out the papers, handing them to him. He snatches them away from me and begins to hurriedly scribbling down the work. I slowly sit down in my seat, watching his hands move back and forth, sarcastically voicing, "You know, you could just do the work yourself. Might save you the hassle of trying to always hurry before the teacher gets in." He scoffs, eyes still glued to my paper, "No hassle, Samsquatch. Just a quick little work of the hands aaaaaand voila! All done!" He gives me a big, toothy grin as he gracefully hands the papers back to me.

Lucy looks at him with a questioning look, eyebrow furrowed, then back at me and scoffs. He looks at the floor, shaking his head back and forth. I laugh a little, asking, "What?" once more. He peeks up at me through the swooping blonde hair covering most of his eyes, and exclaims, "He'll never learn if you don't tell him no." Gabe glares at him and pouts. Lucy flashes a little glint in is eye and mischievously smirks back up at Gabe. "He doesn't learn anyway! The only thing he's capable of focusing on are pranks and Mrs. Kali's boobs. If I didn't help him all the time, he'd fail," I give Gabe a mock pout and ruffle his hair. He snarls and swats at my hand as Lucy and I burst into a fit of laughter, further instigating his already prominent pout. 

The classroom door opens and the teacher walks in slowly, his shirt untucked but still neat; and tells everyone to quiet down, making a shushing motion with his hands.  
"Now kids, as you all already know, summer break is in three weeks-," his sentence cut off by everyone in the class shouting and cheering. He yells at them all to shut up, waiting for the noise to fall to a quiet whisper before resuming his announcement, "This means that finals are in two weeks. That's two weeks to review, make up any missing work, and not get into trouble. If you put my ass on the line, I'm putting yours there too," he smiles and various fits of giggles emerge. "After that, feel free to do as you please, just make sure to clean up your mess and cover your tracks. And remember, If even one of you gets me a lecture from the principle about keeping you guys in check, I will serve all of your heads to him on a silver platter as proof that I can." He gives the class another sarcastic, toothy grin, waiting for the laughter to settle once more before he begins the lesson.

As he speaks and starts writing on the board Lucy turns to me and whispers, "Wanna go to a party tomorrow? Deanna Holicka's having one and I heard it's supposed to be the best one of the year. Lots of hot girls and guys and booze n' shit." I run through the answer in my head before I decide to look down and shake my head. "Nah I'm good, man." I tilt my eyes up, seeing the vague disappointment on his face. "You sure? I can give you a ride." I shake my head again, giving him a small smile as I lie, "I'm just gonna hang out at home and catch up on some shows." He shrugs his shoulders, trying to hide the disappointment he must've noticed he was showing, with a rebellious smirk, "Your loss." He turns back to the teacher and suddenly my cheeks feel hot. My pulse starts racing and a need to move surges intensely through me. I tap my fingers on the desk impatiently for a moment before the feeling becomes too much and I shoot my hand up in the air. "Mr. Springer! May I go to the bathroom!" I shout. He turns a curious look towards me. The realization that I just cut him off mid sentence rushes through my head and the heat intensifies further. He squints his eyes at me, like he's analyzing my intentions, and nods quickly before turning around and yelling, "Make it quick!" 

I bolt through the class and out the door, practically sprinting towards the bathroom. I burst into it and check the stalls to make sure no one else is here, thankful when they're empty. I make my way into one, closing the door and sitting, my feet immediately tapping the ground impulsively. My pulse is going haywire and my hands are shaking. Trying to breathe properly, I shove my head down between my legs and take long, deep breaths. 'Calmdowncalmdowncalmdowncalmdown' rushes through my mind. I've been through this countless times, I know what to do, but my impatience with it grows with every bout. My breaths are still ragged and shallow and my fingers twitch to do what I know needs to be done for it to stop. I know it's wrong, that it's not something anyone should do, but the results are undeniable and too greatly appreciated for that thought to get in the way. I take out a small pocket knife from the back of my shoe and hurriedly drag the blade out. I roll up my sleeve and press it against my forearm, watching as the blade runs along the smooth skin to reveal a small amount of blood. Suddenly everything slows to a normal pace and I close my eyes ever so tightly. I take the moment to just breathe, just breathe and let the world fall back into place. Let the throbbing in my ears and body calm to shallow beat, watching the blood slowly begin to drip.

I squeeze my eyelids shut further and I just breathe.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

ADAM

 

'I'm so tired of all this bullshit' I rant in my head, taking a long drag of the joint between my fingers. The smoke builds in my lungs and the sensation should be calming but the turmoil in my head is still ringing with fervent annoyance. Everything is hazy but the focus of burning irritation, and it makes me feel...light. I bring the joint back to my mouth, hoping for the calmness it promised, but it's yanked out of my hand abruptly.

I look up, shielding my eyes from sun, to see Michael leaning over me. He takes a quick huff, then gives it back and sits down, leaning against the wall behind me. He faces me and blows the smoke in my face, but it doesn't phase me. I breathe in as much smoke as I can from him and blow it back into his face. He squints his eyes and punches my shoulder playfully. "Jackass," he laughs. I flip him off. 

I face forward once more and take the drag I wanted. He waits until I'm done before he does the same. A moment of silence passes. He sighs loudly, too loudly, like he wants it to be noticed and I know he's about to kill the lack of noise with his raspy voice. I close my eyes and wait, a subtle jolt escaping my body when he finally speaks, "There are multiple reasons you smoke, but only one reason you come here to do it. So what's wrong?" I take another long drag, watching the smoke pour out into the small breeze ruffling my hair. My eyes close for a moment, gathering my thoughts before I decide to say anything. "It's getting to be too much again."

I see his face turn towards me, wearing a stoic but worried look. He takes the joint from my fingers again, pulling in another drag between his lips. He waits another second, looking down like he's not sure of himself or angry, before asking, "What'd you take?" The irony of his concern makes me want to laugh; the willingness of this guy I only met two years ago to try to help me, but the ignorance of my absent family to even see me. A small smile escapes onto my mouth. "Just your daily dose of Vicodin; for all your teenage, aching needs." As the words float from my mouth I can feel a new, stronger haze settle into my system. The calmness I wanted being forced into my system; coursing through my veins. He sighs in exasperation this time, standing up. "How long ago?" The grin itching at the sides of my mouth starts to make it's way through, my mind and body's resolve crumbling. "Hehe, ten, fifteen minutes ago? Heh." I reach my hand out to take the burning joint from his loose fingers, but he grabs my wrist instead and yanks me to my feet. I stumble for a second, laughing once I've gathered my wits. 

Everything is soft and comfortable and safe. Michael leans me against himself, an arm wrapped around my side to hold me up. He starts to jerk me forward and I ask, "What're you doing?" His grip on me tightens, explaining, "I'm taking you home, you can't walk around like this. Idiot." I giggle, my brain suddenly focusing on the word 'idiot'; playing with it in my head, tossing and turning it through my thoughts. It was just so...Michael. 

My legs fumble underneath me as he walks me through the parking lot to his car. He opens up the passenger door with one hand, gently putting me into the car with the other. The leather seat is pushed back just far enough that I can lay my head down comfortably on my arm, the sensation making my eyes droop shut. I hear Michael haphazardly open the driver's seat door and plop himself in the seat. The tingling of his keys makes shivers of tension run across my spine and before he can turn the keys my hand lashes out and grabs onto his soft, grey hoodie. The stiffness of his muscles causes a quick silence and I know he's looking at me, so I say, "I feel light. They make me feel light." The sleep thrumming it's way through my head starts to become more prominent, almost blinding. But just before the sensation begins to consume me I feel his hard hand pat my shoulder twice, as he almost whispers, "I know, buddy. I know."

**Author's Note:**

> Should I continue? Comment below!! 
> 
> *All constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated:)


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